Of Dwarves and Diplomats
by Cibbwin
Summary: A story set around the (fictional) son of Gimli Elf-friend, Gimli Cibbwin. He is the adopted son of Legolas Greenleaf and his hobbit Queen, Alora.
1. Unblemished

NOTE: The characters in this story, besides Legolas and a few others, are purely fictitious. I take many liberties with this story.

However, I also believe that these are good stories that I wrote. Enjoy the stories as independent of Tolkien and his incredible text.

I – Unblemished

"Dís? Dís Stormfoot, is that you?" Gimli said as seriously as he could muster. "I'm sorry, but the dwarf I know by that name has a much fuller beard than your stringy mess."

Dís leveled a glare at her old friend. "Lookit you, boy! Cannae even grow a moustache. Disgrace to yer clan, ye are."

Gimli let out a laugh. "Good to see you, too!" he exclaimed, and the two met in a fierce embrace. She cuffed his head and he looked down at the weapon strapped to her belt.

"A sword, Dís? And a dull one at that? And she says I'm the blasphemer!" Gimli said, looking back at his mother. In truth, the sword was a beautiful piece, gleaming in the moonlight that peeked through the canopy of trees overhead.

"Bah! At least I don' live with elves!" She stuck her nose close to Gimli and made a face. "Ye even smell like the useless pointy-ears." Alora could feel Varno stiffen at her side, and Legolas shake with suppressed laughter. She couldn't help grinning herself as she looked the dwarf-maid over.

Although more masculine than most of the male elves Alora had seen in Thranduil's halls, Dís was without a doubt a dwarf-woman. She wore a dress of deep blue under her long mail hauberk, an elegant chain shirt embossed with sapphires that matched the color of her small, keen eyes. She wore a coif of the same shining mail that hugged her head more like a tressure than a war-hood. Her sky-blue cloak and its gold tassels proclaimed her royalty. Her beard was, contrary to Gimli's insult, a well-combed, manicured and beaded thing, the same dark chestnut color as her flowing hair.

"My son, aren't you going to introduce your Lord and Lady?" Alora called, a smile still playing at the ends of her lips. Dís looked up at this proclamation.

"Aye, come on, ye runt! Don't make me drag ye," Dís said, smiling fondly at her cousin.

The dwarf princess and her small entourage stepped behind Gimli. "My Lord Legolas, I wish you to meet my cousin Dís II Stormfoot, daughter of Thorin Stonehelm. Cousin, Legolas Greenleaf, my sire."

Legolas stepped forward and bowed to the princess. "My Lady, welcome to our Woodland Realm! The hobbit next to me is Alora, my Queen."

Alora bowed to Dís and held out her hand. "Welcome, good woman! We give thanks for your coming."

Dís bowed and kissed Alora's hand. "Thank ye for inviting me! My da had only good things to say about the two of ye, and I was only waiting for the chance to meet ye.

"I forget my manners, though. This here," she said, motioning to a dwarf wearing a white beard and a lute, "is Hakoldef, a skald of my da's halls."

Hakoldef stepped forward and bowed. Gimli took his hand and shook vehemently. "It is a pleasure to have you here, Lord!"

Hakoldef said nothing, but smiled. "Aye, cousin," Dís grinned, "I figured you'd enjoy his company! That sour lookin' fellow," she said, motioning toward a dwarf with hair and eyes the colour of flame, "is Lamli, one of our best blacksmiths. He isn't the most pleasant fellow, but ye asked for our best smith, and I brought 'im."

Lamli looked at the hand Legolas offered and sniffed. "Girl, don' expect me to help this pansy twig!"

Dís chuckled, a sound utterly devoid of joy. "I expect ye to work off yer debt, ye fool." Lamli narrowed his eyes but said nothing more. "Finally, this good woman here is Narendy, my handmaid, my cook and my bodyguard."

A dwarf woman with short stature and a shorter beard grinned. "'Tis good to meet ye, Legolas! Dís told me that she wouldn't need me while under yer roof, but I told her to beware of yer charms. Turns out I was right!"

To Gimli's surprise, both Legolas and Alora chuckled. "Indeed, my Lady! Take no worry, however, your mistress will be safe in my care."

"I have no doubt about that, Lord Greenleaf."

Legolas motioned with his hand. "Come on in, come on in! I am sure that you are wearied from your trek. Did you have any trouble crossing the river?"

"Nay, milord. Although I'm probably the wors' person with directions, Hakoldef has traveled extensively. He found the Elf-path easily enough."

"Ah, it is a good thing you brought him, then! Varno, would you please take the dwarves' mule to the stables?" Legolas said, patting the animal on the head.

"Take care of Ibûn, elf! He enjoys his luxuries."

Varno did not exactly look pleased to being reduced to a stable boy, but he nodded and took the reins from Narendy.

"Right pleasant fellow, that one. Seems to me that we won' be welcomed with open arms by the other elves, will we?" Dís said matter-of-factly.

"I will not attempt to deceive you with a false sense of sanctuary, my Lady: My people are still not as welcoming as I would hope. It took them no small amount of time to accept your cousin and my wife as their lords, and there are still those who oppose them and, consequently, me."

"Aye, I figured as such. 'Tis not like my people can claim to be unblemished. Narendy here," she said, putting her arm over the shorter woman's shoulders, "would follow me into a dragon's belly if need be, and Hakoldef has met elves before. None others accepted my offer to come meet ye, though. And believe you me, I asked around." As if to drive Dís' point home, Lamli spat at Varyar's feet. The elf glared daggers at the dwarf but said nothing.

Narendy smacked Lamli in the arm. "Hold yerself, Lamli!"

Dís' eyebrows rose in amusement. "Well! Who is this elf who can resist Lamli's tauntin' so well?"

Varyar bowed. "I am Varyar, Lady Stormfoot. Varno and I are Lord Greenleaf's throne guards. The third elf is Máre, the Queen's personal guard."

Dís nodded her head. "'Tis good to meet ye. 'Tis a good thing you've learned to ignore Lamli so soon, he'll be nothin' but trouble. But he is our best," Dís said, almost apologetically. Lamli chuckled and kicked a rock absently.

"Hopefully, Legolas, we can work on bringin' our people together," Dís said, hope and uncertainty mingling in her voice, as if she doubted her own words but still held hope in them.

"Ye are right, though, the trip was tiring. Could we join ye in your halls? I think we'd all like to have stone over our heads again." Even Lamli nodded his agreement.

"Of course! The night in this wood is dangerous, so it would be better if we gathered inside. Most of my people have retired, but we can have a quick meal and be off to bed, if you wish."

"Aye, that would be fine. I have been waitin' ages to see the halls my da spoke so fondly of."

"Well then, come on in! Let us not tarry anymore."

Varno returned to the group, still looking disgusted. "My animal didn' give ye any trouble, did it, elf?" Narendy asked. Varno sniffed and took his place by Alora. She patted his hand and rolled her eyes slightly.

"Come." The elves, the dwarves and the hobbit stepped through the Great Gates and made their way to the throne room.


	2. Dessert

II – Dessert

"Ye don't eat much meat, do ye?" Dís asked, eyeing Alora's plate. The hobbit was happily feasting herself on a medley of vegetables and rice.

"No, few hobbits do. Our stomachs aren't strong enough nor our hearts cold enough to kill our cows and chickens. Fortunately, elves do not generally cultivate either."

"And yet ye have the stomach to gut a man, if what my cousin says rings true."

Alora raised an eyebrow. "What else did Cibby tell you?"

"Well, other than some personal, unpolite details, nothin' much."

Alora grinned and looked down at her plate. She turned her eyes on Legolas, who was getting a little pink in the cheeks.

Gimli chuckled quietly into his soup. "Forgive me, _Ada_, but half of your existence would not be proper etiquette to discuss at a meal."

Lamli groaned, his mouth full of venison. "Could ye please change the subject? We're tryin' to eat over 'ere!" Narendy fiercely nodded her agreement. Gimli helplessly snorted back a few laughs as Legolas turned a deeper shade of red.

"D-Dís, when were you planning to tell Gimli and Alora?"

"Tell us what, _Ada_?"

Dís wiped her mouth with a napkin and pushed back her chair. "Actually, Legolas, none of the dwarves here know, either. Anyway," she said, clearing her throat. "Cousin, Queen Greenleaf, dwarves, as ye know, Thorin Stonehelm is my da."

Dís' statement was greeted by nods. _That's rather obvious_, Gimli thought to himself.

"Well, guess who the heir presumptive is?" The room was silent. No one had any true idea who could succeed the Stonehelm.

"Well… as ye may or may not know, my da really has no able-bodied male relatives," she said slowly, dragging out the words. "My friends, look upon the first High Queen of the Dwarves!"

The small dinner party burst into conversation.

"Well well well! Good on you!"

"_Ada_, you never told me!"

"My Lady, how wonderful!"

"_Nan Elbereth!_ Are you serious? How did this come to pass?" Alora shot Varno a surprised look. _I didn't think that elf knew how to swear!_ she thought with grim satisfaction. _Why is he so shocked? He almost sounds like he disapproves._

Alora voiced her thoughts. "What does it matter to an elf guard who the next dwarf-lord is?"

Varno opened his mouth to retort, but quickly composed himself. "Forgive me, Lady, I meant no disrespect."

"Then be still."

"Quite easily, actually!" Dís said, answering Varno's question. "My ma had no desire to see another child burst out of her, an' my da agreed with her. I am their only child – why not make me the King's heir?"

"But what did the nobles have to say about this? Did they not object?" Gimli asked, hardly believing his ears.

"No, cousin, not really. My countrymen were surprised, but not shocked. The vote was overwhelmingly in my favour."

Narendy jumped up from her seat and squeezed her mistress. "My Lady, ye will be our greatest Lord since Durin Deathless!"

"Yer father is a fool, but I have hope still in ye." Lamli held out his hand. Dís grinned and accepted the offered congratulations. Hakoldef smiled but said nothing.

"Jus' don' let no human – or elf," Lamli said, shooting Legolas a glance, "tell ye how to rule."

"Dís, this is incredible! I am overjoyed that the council did not object."

"Indeed, cousin! Women were never truly denied the throne among my fathers, there was jus' never a need for us."

Gimli was ecstatic beyond words. "I'm just so proud that this is going to happen in my lifetime!"

Dís walked over to her cousin and gave him a fierce embrace. "Cousin, so am I.

"Anyway, that doesn' change anything, at least not for the moment. I'ma still a dwarf princess on a diplomatic mission, nothin' more. Legolas, can't a dwarf get some dessert around here?"

Legolas smiled. His son's voracious dwarven appetite prepared him for such things. "Of course, if everyone is finished."

"What did I tell you, my love? Isn't she great?" Legolas called from the washroom.

"She seems nice."

"Isn't it wonderful? The first dwarven queen," he said wistfully.

"Yes, it's very good, Leggy."

Legolas poked his head through the door. "That was not very enthusiastic!"

Alora smiled to herself. "I'm happy for her and Cibby, but I personally don't see what all the fuss is about."

Legolas nodded. "I understand. You are not royal born, so it probably seems silly to you that we are excited so."

"Exactly! Wait – did I miss something?"

Legolas smiled. "No, my bite-sized love, I meant no offense."

"None taken."

Legolas walked over to the bed and gave his wife a long, soft kiss. "Come, Alora. Let us retire. We have a long day tomorrow! Four dwarves to entertain."

Alora's eyes went wide in faux shock. "Legolas, do be careful! Their… enchanting musk might rub off on you!" Legolas laughed.

"I think that Narendy might fancy you! Do be careful around her," Alora said, relishing in her husband's tormenting.

"You know that you are the only woman for me," Legolas said, suddenly serious.

"Oh, I know! I'm just playing around with you. I am tired, though, for once."

"Yes, so am I. Let's sleep in tomorrow, hmm? I'm sure Gimli wants to spend time alone with the dwarves for a while, anyway."

"Sounds good to me, Leggy-love. _Elei velui _and goodnight." She gently kissed his neck and pulled the covers over herself.

"Goodnight."

Sindarin:

Ada – dad

Nan Elbereth – by Varda  
Elei velui – sweet dreams


	3. Treasure

III – Treasure

"_Fangon_, you do not have to join us, if you wish not to. You can explore on your own – most of my kin should leave you be."

"My Lady, do ye want us to stay?"

"Do what ye want, Narendy. I'll be all right with these fools," Dís said, motioning towards the family Greenleaf and their guards. Again, Alora could sense Varno's displeasure.

Narendy's eyes lit up. "Well, ye don't have to tell me twice!" Narendy groped for Lamli's hand and ran off, Hakoldef trailing not far behind.

"Máre, you can go, too. Take the day for yourself." Máre nodded his thanks and started off.

"Someone is in a good mood! Can't well remember when last you did that."

"It seems like Dís and your father want to be alone. Besides, there isn't any danger in their company."

"Still, Máre is your favourite accessory! He compliments your dresses so well." Máre shot around and glared at Gimli. Gimli raised an eyebrow at Máre's mock challenge.

"Careful, elf! Be sure to respect your betters." Máre laughed and threw what was left of his apple at Gimli. It landed square on his nose.

"Hey! Damn you, I'll get you!" He shouted, and attempted to return the favour as the elf ran off. His attempt was less than impressive.

"Cibby," Alora scolded, "Remember what I said about swearing in my presence?"

"Yes, but I thought you also said that I was old enough to do as I pleased."

Alora struck her son on the cheek. "Don't be daft, boy!"

"Mother! Varno swore last night, clear as crystal, and you did not reprimand him!"

"He used a deity's name in vain. I could care less about that."

"But -" Gimli started, but Dís shook her head. "C'mon, cousin! Obey yer mother! She is right, ye know – swearing is not exactly eloquent."

Gimli sighed. He knew that Dís was right, but he resented being treated like a child. Nevermind that he was a child in dwarf years – he was older than Alora in truth. He rubbed his humiliated cheek.

Legolas ignored his wife's discipline and cleared his throat. "Come, Dís, let us be off." He led the group down a hall towards the makeshift docks that serviced Thranduil's halls. "Do not forget, we have a council to hold later this eve."

"Oh? Is Dís joining us, _Ada_?"

"That she is, Gimli. She has a proposal for some trade agreements, among other things." Gimli nodded his understanding. He stopped short as Legolas passed the tunnel that led to the docks. He ran after his family when they did not do likewise.

"_Ada_, where are we going?"

"Fret not, Gimli! I have a detour that will get us there quickly."

"We are giving her a tour, are we not?"

"Of course, child, but she shall see the docks first." The party entered a smaller cavern that served as a treasure room. Dís' eyes lingered over the small piles of treasure heaped here and there.

"We did not have much that glitters before your father's father and my sire met some ninety years ago. Their gifts were generous beyond my father's dreams. Although, to be honest, we haven't much need for it all."

Dís' eyes lit up at this bold proclamation. Gimli winced, for it sounded as if Legolas was ungrateful for the gift. Dwarves were not by nature trusting or generous. Dís' address to his father was, fortunately, not a reprimand. "Are ye launching any war campaigns or some such, Legolas? Surely this great wood isn't clear of evil jus' yet."

"No, Lady, the south of this wood is under Celeborn's lead, now."

Dís' eyes shone with opportunity. "Legolas, can I speak to ye in private for a moment?"

"Of course, good dwarf. Alora, Gimli?" Legolas looked at his family, who smiled back reassuringly. He walked ahead of them with Dís at his side.

"Well, Mum, what do you think?"

"Of what, Gimli?"

"Of Dís, Alora! What else?"

Alora looked past her son at the royals walking ahead of her. "Sorry, Cibby. She seems capable, but I've still to learn about who she is, exactly.

"Why, do you fancy her?"

Gimli laughed uneasily. "She is a sculpture in her beauty and a sage in her wisdom, but I have no wish to wed her. I have no wish to be a King."

"And yet that is what you will be, once I die and Legolas tires of this world."

"Mother! Do not speak of such things!"

"My son, it is pointless to hide the inevitable. What will you do, leave your father's throne to the squabbling nobles?"

"I don't know," Gimli whispered, suddenly uncertain. Attempting a more confident voice, he said "I will know what to do when the time comes."

Alora looked at her son for a minute, then shrugged. "I wonder what Dís and Legolas speak of?"

"Who knows? Probably something utterly boring and political. Maybe about Celeborn?"

"Well, if it is Celeborn, I hope it is nothing ill. Despite your father and others' opinions, I have nothing but respect for him."

"Well, for what it's worth, I see nothing unlikable about him besides his somewhat ungracious behaviour."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Mother, remember the ceremony that was held for Father's declaration of my inheritance? I know you saw Celeborn's hesitation at acknowledging me as Prince."

"I think he was just a bit surprised, my son. I was just as surprised when your father suggested it."

"I bet. Wait, Father suggested it?"

"Of course! Why, is that important?"

Gimli smiled a bit, a relieved look crossing his face. "Not really, it just pleases me to hear that."

Alora smiled and patted Gimli's stomach. "He loves you." That was all they had time to say as they were swepped up by a smiling Dís and Legolas.

"I know," Gimli said to himself. He smiled, feeling much better about his parents than he had just a moment ago.

Legolas led them through various tunnels and back caverns that Gimli had never found on his various exploring missions. _I need to get me a copy of those keys!_ Gimli thought. He grinned to himself, imagining the pranks he could play with such power. He quickly wiped such thoughts out of his head, at least for the moment – he knew the mischievous gleam his eyes took on at such times.

"Dís, is Lamli proficient in locksmithing?"

"Oh, aye, cousin – he can make a replica of any key just by holdin' it in his hand for a minute or two. It is a wonder to see him at work! Why do you ask?"

"No real reason; I was merely curious." Gimli stored this information for use at a later time as they reached a final, unmarked door. He just barely noticed the keyhole that his father utilized. Legolas opened the door and ushered them in. The smell and sound of running water met the party as they stood in the small chamber that served as a harbour for Thranduil's halls. Other than a few small boats moored here and there and barrels lain neatly against the cavern-walls, there was no indication that the area was trafficked much, if at all.

Legolas seemed embarrassed as he explained the scene in front of them. "The only traffick this place receives is a few times a year, when we send our wine down the river to Lake-town."

"Aye, I heard about that from my grand-da's cousin. Ye send it down in barrels? Seems a little haphazard!" Dís scanned the cavern with her keen eyes. She had an affinity with the earth and the rocks that few elves could understand and fewer dwarves could master.

"Are ye ever gonna expand this place, Legolas? Ye could have a thriving harbour here – it could be a waypoint for merchants sailing from Lake-town and the Dalelands to the Anduin."

"I have been thinking the same."

"Aye? Ye could dig out the wall on the other side and build out," she said, pointing. "These cave-walls look like they could hold the pressure."

"Indeed!" Legolas said, looking at the docks with newfound interest.

"Why yer da never did so, I'd like to know."

"My father was not an ambitious individual, as I am sure your fathers noticed. He felt no need to expand our borders or meet with other kingdoms."

"_Ada_, he wasn't very friendly with other kings, was he?"

That is right. I am not so blinded by old grudges as he was, however," he said, tightening his jaw.

"I want to establish an elf-kingdom here in Middle-earth, Dís. I want my people to interact with other civilized folk and learn new, non-elvish ideas. I desire for my people to thrive here, in the material world, not just on an island that no one can reach." Alora looked up in shock at Legolas' ill praise for Valinor.

"What about Lothlórien, or Imladris?" she asked.

Legolas laughed. "Those kingdoms exercise little real power. No, I do not wish our home to become like those elf-realms. I do not wish for these halls to fade into legends that parents recite to their children as they chide them to bed." He turned to Dís. "We need to work together in this, for both our benefit. I am sure that you do not want your people to decline, either. This world would be a sorrowful place without our grace and your strength."

"I agree, milord. We need to stake our claims!"

"Exactly. That is the reason I asked you to bring Lamli here – I wish a trade of not only goods, but of information – of knowledge. There is much we could teach each other, and I believe that this trade is the only way your people and mine could prosper."

Dís nodded her agreement. They started off again, all the while discussing trade agreements and the like. Their words went unheard by Gimli, who was imagining the excitement that such communication could bring. _If the elves accept me, maybe being King of this place wouldn't be so bad!_ Gimli mused. _Imagine ruling at such a fateful time!_

Sindarin:

Fangon – bearded one(s)


	4. Counsel

IV – Counsel

The sounds and smells of the industrial centre of Legolas' fledgling elf-kingdom greeted the party as they entered the largest cavern in Thranduil's halls. A small, slow-flowing tributary meandered in from the docks. A small mill churned the stream. Smiths, carpenters, ropemakers, candlemakers and other labourers cheerfully worked the hours away. There were warehouses against the cavern-walls, some small and privately owned, some large, holding grain or stores of weapons and armour. The group's feet, some dwarven-booted, some elven-shod, and some bare, echoed softly as Legolas pointed out the more interesting happenings around them. A tall figure in a deep, obscuring cowl lingered near one of the smaller warehouses before disappearing behind it.

"The larger storage is reserved for the King and his family, and for the various artisans' guilds," Legolas explained to Dís, ignoring the shadow he had noticed. "The smaller ones are owned by individuals."

"I never would have thought that the cave systems 'ere were this expansive!" Dís commented, pride strengthening her voice. "Yer home is nothing like the Lonely Mountain kingdom, but even so, I see that Mahal has blessed ye."

"That he has," Legolas said, smiling. "As have all the Valar." _He is taking __Dís' comments well!_ Gimli thought to himself. _I don't know if I would appreciate that thinly-veiled insult!_ Suddenly a loud, gruff voice met their ears.

"Ye pansy, ye think yerself a smith? Ye can't even hold yer hammer correctly! It's a weapon, not a butterknife!"

A gentler, musical voice returned Lamli's insults. "Dwarf, I have been smithing all my life. My arrowheads and knives cut through spiders and goblins easily enough. I have heard no complaints from the guards."

"Bah! That's because most of ye pointy ears wouldn' know good steel if it pierced ye through the heart!"

"Careful, fool, that sounded like a threat!"

Lamli snorted and crossed his arms across his chest. "Well, at least yer a smart one! Ye can fall back on that once I take over yer job."

The elf narrowed his eyes, hammer still in hand. The air stood still for a moment, as dwarf taunted and elf glowered. Legolas groaned and ran toward the quarrelers.

"Belegol! Lamli! Calm yourselves. What is the problem?"

"Lord, this dwarf threatened my work and my life!"

"Ah, calm yer whinin', elf. I was only bein' honest with ye."

"You called my talents sub-par."

"The truth hurts."

Legolas sighed. "Lamli, _adar dithen_," he said, evoking a term of utmost honour for a dwarf, "I have no doubt that your skills are wondrous to behold, but Belegol has never failed me. Please, take pity on him."

Before Belegol could object or Lamli gloat, he turned on the elven smith. "You could learn much from this dwarf, Belegol." Legolas leaned in close so only he and the still fuming elf could hear.

"He is miles ahead of your skills. Due to no fault of your own," Legolas added quickly, noting the anger surging again in Belegol's face. "Accept his counsel, please. You will not lose your station, but I need you to work with him. _Iesten, angdar nín_." Legolas looked straight into Belegol's eyes, pleading now without words. Finally, the fire in the smith's eyes burned out.

"Dwarf, forgive me my foolishness. Your skills are an asset that I should not squander so easily." He held out his hand.

"Ah, elf, I never disliked ye pointy-ears, I jus' love seein' ye get worked up. No harm done." He took the offered hand and shook heartily.

Legolas beamed at the smiths. "Thank you, gentlemen. If there is anything you need, inquire with one of the nobles." He took a ring off of his hand. "Give this and they will know that you have my leave to do as you will." Belegol took the offered jewel. Lamli and he bowed low and resumed a less heated argument.

"Legolas, ye are to be congratulated for your handlin' of that situation. How do ye know how to handle Lamli so well?"

"He reminds me of Gimli when first I met him," Legolas said, smiling fondly at the memory of his old friend. "Who is he, Lady? I seem to recall you speaking of a debt."

Dís' brow furrowed in puzzlement as she related the fiery dwarf's tale. "I am not rightly sure. My da would never give me all the details, and Lamli refuses to talk about it. All I know is that The Stonehelm dismissed some crime from Lamli's person in exchange for his services. I do know that the two were good friends before Lamli's fall from grace.

"He can be well pleasant once ye get to know him and he decides ye are worth respectin'. Ye can rest assure that he won't let Belegol use that ring for his own betterment, much less use it himself."

Legolas nodded. "I figured as such. I just hope that he and my smith will find some common ground."

"Ah, I don't think ye need to worry about that. Any being who uses a smith's hammer is about two notches higher on his chain o' respect."

The group turned a corner into another cavern that served as a forum and a marketplace. Stalactites and stalagmites dotted the cavern's ceiling and floor. Some of the larger stalagmites had been hollowed out and were now in use by various merchants. Two of these dripstones met in the centre of the cavern and formed a large, supportive column. A grand, jewel-covered clock was carved into it.

"See that, Dís? That, I think, is a testament to our feeble elven masonry skills," Legolas said, pointing.

Dís squinted her eyes and strained to see the clock. "Either my eyes aren' too good, or yer clock needs a bigger face!" Legolas laughed.

A young elf-maid nudged passed them, carrying a tall tray of sweet-smelling bread. Sellers hawked their goods, servants shopped for their noble masters' and mistresses' banquets, minstrels played and danced for weary shoppers. Gimli smiled inwardly as he watched the elves go about their daily business. _This is why so many have fought and died. This is why we rally to our lords when the time calls us to._

Alora, however, always felt at unease in large groups of people, and her empty stomach begged to be filled. The elves' height did not exactly ease her anxiety, either. "_Meleth nín_," she said, tugging on one of Legolas' billowing sleeves. Gimli marveled at how innocent she looked doing so.

"Mother! You act like a child! You are not very queenly in your actions."

"Do you think that matters, Gimli?"

Gimli shook his head. "Your lack of care will be the death of you, Mother!"

Alora sighed and turned to her son. "Why do you insist on always being so vochal?"

Gimli grinned. "Because if I am aloof no one will know when they strike a nerve!"

"Yes, well, don't interrupt," she said, rolling her eyes. Turning to Legolas, she said, "Could we stop for a drink and some food soon? You know, there is that wonderful little pub nearby." Alora turned and noticed that the offices of her past etiquette teacher, Ninde, were near. She shuddered in remembrance of that tedious conditioning, done almost a lifetime ago.

"Now, perhaps?"

"I am rather famished, _Ada_. They even serve dwarven ale there!" Gimli exclaimed, glancing at Dís.

"Well, what are we waitin' for, Legolas?" Dís said, her interest peaked. Legolas nodded and waded through the crowd until they came upon the tavern, a small business owned by Voronwë, an elf once known as _Nauraun_. His name was appropriate even now, for he held a fiery temper and a boastful tongue. His tavern was well known for its potent beverages and its contests of song.

They were welcomed by the clattering of dishes, the conversations of elves and the sound of an odd, earthy melody wafting from a lute. "Ah, I guess Hakoldef found 'is place!" Dís said approvingly. The seated dwarf was surrounded by young, awestruck elves, who were drinking in every note that poured from the strings of his instrument. He looked up and smiled as the royals walked in. He looked around him and handed his lute to Voronwë's daughter, a girl with soft, grey eyes.

"Take care of that!" he said, taking on a grandfatherly tone. "That used to be part of the great Smaug's horde!" Eduoiin's eyes grew wide as she regarded the instrument.

"Hello, Eduoiin!" Gimli waved, but the elf was too preoccupied with staring holes into the lute to pay Gimli any attention.

"Lady Dís! I'm glad that you stumbled upon this place!" Hakoldef said, running up to her and bowing low. He nodded his head toward the Greenleafs. "They serve dwarven ale here! Iron Hills ale!"

Dís' eyes grew nostalgic. "It has been a long while since I have tasted the brew of our brothers in the east. Legolas, may I?"

"Of course, Lady. Drink your fill and do not worry about price." Dís thanked him and ran off with Hakoldef, who was relating all he had seen that day. Legolas followed shortly behind.

"Well, I am just happy to know that he is not mute!"

"No, just selectively mute."

Gimli laughed and handed Alora a mug. She looked into it and furrowed her nose.

"What do you suppose it is, Alora-mum?"

"Who knows?" she said, and took a deep swig.

Sindarin:

Adar dithen – little father  
Iesten – please (I desire)  
Angdar nín – my blacksmith  
Meleth nín – my love  
Nauraun – lit. fire-errant


	5. Council

V – Council

"Alora, are you sure that you do not want to go and rest? You had quite a lot of ale back there."

"No, Legolas, I'm alright," she said, although, judging by the swaying, she was not well. She faltered in her step a little and burped. "Excuse me!" she groaned, and covered her mouth. She took a cautious step forward, and then another.

Suddenly, Alora swooned, and her body went limp.

"Alora! Alora, wake up!" Legolas shouted at his wife, lowering her gently to the floor. Elves gathered around him, trying to get a peek at the commotion. Suddenly, Alora opened her mouth and promptly began snoring. Legolas sighed and chuckled a bit to himself. Dís and Gimli and the other elves around him eventually did the same.

"Máre," Legolas said, motioning toward his wife's guard, "take your Queen to our room and place her in Lisse's care. Do only that," he said, looking Máre straight in the eyes. _So much for trusting Máre again_, Gimli thought grimly. Máre nodded as Legolas passed his wife into the shorter elf's arms. He held her like a proud father would hold his daughter as he walked towards her chambers.

"Legolas, are ye alright? That was an easily avoided scare!" Dís said, a hint of incredulity in her voice.

Legolas took a handkerchief from one of the hidden pockets of his robes and wiped his glistening brow. "Aye, forgive me. I am needlessly anxious over this council meeting."

Dís frowned. "Whatever for? Ye don't strike me as the nervous kind."

"I am worried about how they will accept you, my Lady."

"Ah, don't worry about me! I aint afraid of no pointy-ears," Dís huffed, relishing in her 'tough-dwarf' persona. Gimli couldn't help but laugh as Lord Aradir, a dark-haired, haughty elf, shot Dís a look of contempt.

"Good evening, Lord Aradir!" Gimli greeted with mock enthusiasm. Aradir sniffed and walked off.

"_Ada_, are you alright? We should probably head into the council chamber."

Legolas nodded and looked to Dís as he opened the tall, green doors. "My Lady, it should be very standard conduct. The different nobles will bring their issues to the table, which we will discuss and vote on, if need be. You shall speak last, for you mentioned to me your interest in witnessing how it is we work here in the Great Greenwood."

Dís nodded her understanding. "Any special traditions?"

"Aye, many. Everything is steeped in ancient ritual whose origins no one cares to remember. There are none you need to worry about, however, My Lady. Ah, Lady Morion!" Legolas said as she and the other nobles gathered in the council chamber. "I am glad to see you well again. And out of prison," he whispered. "Let us hope that you keep your deviance to a minimum, now, hmm?"

Morion's sharp, grey eyes glanced about for signs of Alora, and, with her paranoia sated, bowed and kissed Legolas' hand. "My Lord, it is an honour to serve you. I will do as you ask and calm my… indiscretions."

"That is all I ask of you, my Dark Lady. Your intelligence is not something I wish to see waste away in a dungeon."

Morion smiled, pleased with Legolas' praise. "Thank you, Lord. Your words are a joy to hear." She bowed again and smiled at Gimli. She never disliked the dwarf, who sympathized with the noblewoman. Gimli knew well enough how difficult his mother could be, and he understood Morion's anger at being deprived of something that was once in her grasp. Morion's eyes lingered on Dís, and an expression that Gimli could not quite read crossed her face. She walked to her place at the counciltable.

"'Dark Lady?' That a nickname, or somethin'?"

"No, 'tis what her name means."

"Ah, that makes sense. Who is she? Legolas seems to be rather friendly with her."

"She's one of the more powerful nobles. She was slated to be Queen of this realm, once."

"Really?" Dís said, crossing her arms across her chest. "How does yer mother feel about her?" An elf pushed passed them with a hushed "_Goheno nín_" and took his seat.

"Hello, Óldhín!" Gimli called. The elf smiled, his eyes lingering on Dís.

"Goodness! Aren't these staring eyes annoying you at all?"

"Hah! Not hardly. I'm used to it."

"Yes, well, they are not the best of friends, to put it mildly. Morion almost caused her death, once. Granted, it was an accident, but a rather foolish one. A word of advice: Don't push one into that blasted 'Enchanted River.'"

Dís snickered. "I have heard many horror stories about that river and its stupor-inducing waters. What about ye, though? Have ye any fair elf-maids in your life?"

Gimli laughed suddenly and heartily. "Hardly! My last interest was the kind to laugh a wicked laugh and then say 'Let me clip your wings!'"

Dís nodded. "Love is fickle, my friend."

"Aye, that it is. Right now, I am just enjoying a life void of complication."

"As ye should do! I am happy to hear that yeh've learned such wisdom so soon."

Gimli smiled. "I just act on what feels right."

"That's called instinct, boy, and ye have a good dose of it!"

Gimli fought to stay awake as the elves, draped in their robes and jewels, prattled on about their issues for what seemed like hours. Their heaviest cloak was arrogance, however, for all had petty, pointless disputes that could be solved by any sort of apology or independent thinking. Legolas feigned rapt attention, but Gimli knew better. Now that he was older, his father shared many of his political woes with his son. Gimli felt distressed for his father, who wished change but was helpless to bring it about.

These thoughts awoke Gimli and reopened troubled thoughts in his mind. He finally realized, in a eureka of random thought, that the Eldar could never truly be happy in Middle-earth. They could never truly be happy if they did not learn how to die.

He realized, in that moment of boredom and pointlessness, that death was the fuel for mortal ambitions. The shorter one's life is, the more one wishes to accomplish in that life. Contrary to popular belief, elves were not immortal beings. Gimli had learned this from his father. They did indeed age, if at a snail's pace. But neither were they short-lived. They witnessed not only friends, but the very earth around them die. How could any of them find joy in a world where death was such an important part of life? How could any of them find ambition in such a cruel place? It finally made sense, their final journey to Valinor, the world that never died.

The Númenóreans, for all their folly, were the wisest of all beings to live for one reason: They could lay down their own life when they wished to. They knew that when their time came, they had to give it up, and they did so willingly – until Ar-Pharazôn the Golden, of course. As Gimli looked at the visages around him, young elves as they were, he wondered if these or any elves, for that matter, could bring themselves to give up their own lives willingly._ They will have to if they truly wish a lasting elf-kingdom in Middle-earth._

"Lord Gimli, do you have anything to say?" Naurín, chairwoman of the council inquired. Gimli blinked and sat upright. Out of habit, he reached to his mouth to wipe away the drool and found none. _Do I have anything to say?_ he thought frantically. _Only that you all need to die!_

"No, Lady, I have nothing to add."

"Very well. Sire?"

"_Hannon le_, Naurín. My friends, there is one other person who would speak before we conclude. Lady Dís?"

The dwarf nodded and stood. "Good elves, I am Dís Stormfoot, daughter of Thorin Stonehelm of the Lonely Mountain kingdom at Erebor. As I can see by the looks on yer faces," Dís said, a bit of irritation creeping into her voice, "ye were not told that I was to be visitin' yer realm." She shot Legolas, who had just realized his folly, an icy glare.He did not dare look up, choosing to focus instead on his scribblings.

"I thank ye for yer welcome, in any matter. No doubt ye are all curious as to why I have come to speak to ye. I am not a dwarf princess on a leave of absence, though I have enjoyed my short time here.

"I am heir to my father's throne." A murmur of surprise wafted through the room. "Our two peoples 'ave never been on great terms, especially since The Oakenshield passed through this realm some ninety years ago.

"Our peoples have, however, faltered instead of grown since Sauron's fall." This time, varying levels of agreement and anger passed over the faces of the councilors. "That is not meant as an insult. It is truth. I have seen it here, and I am sure that any of ye would see it in our realm. We need to claim our right to these lands, my Lords, and not fade into memory. I believe that the first and best step is trade; a trade of knowledge. I have brought one of my father's most renowned smiths, Lamli. As we speak he is sharing his knowledge with Legolas' smiths.

"In time, I hope that a steady flow of artisans will go between our two kingdoms. I also have a favour to ask of ye," Dís said, her voice losing some of its imperiousness. "Our coffers were greatly drained by the war that Sauron's orcs made on us. Rebuilding has been slow, and orcs still roam the hills around Erebor.

"My grand-da gifted to Thranduil a large sum of gold and jewels in his time. I ask for a loan from that gift. Yer people… do not seem to have a great need for it, but my people would benefit greatly from its use. I ask ye all to vote on my proposal."

"What sum are you asking for?" Óldhín asked.

"As much as can be spared, good Lord." Dís looked to Legolas and bowed. "Thank ye for the chance to speak, Legolas."

"Thank you, Lady Dís." Turning to the councilors, he said "You need not vote now, unless you have already reached a decision. The Lady will be here for another week still. Thank you all for your time," he said, rising from his seat. The councilors did the same. "_Tiro ven Elbereth_," he said, officially ending the council. The elves repeated the blessing and left, chatting amongst themselves about the happenings they had just witnessed.

As Gimli cast his vote, he wondered if the others would vote the same way he did. He prayed that they would.

Sindarin:

Goheno nín – forgive me  
Hannon le – (I) thank you  
Tiro ven Elbereth – may Varda watch over us


	6. The Eldar Shall Rise Again and Prosper!

VI – "The Eldar Shall Rise Again and Prosper!"

"What did ye think of my little speech?" Dis asked, looking at Gimli with uncertainty.

"Well, it woke me up!"

"That's the best compliment I coulda hoped for!" Dís exclaimed, embracing her cousin roughly. Legolas laughed as he knocked at his chamber door – the party had come to retrieve Alora. A moment later Lisse appeared at the door and smiled.

"_Aduial vaer_ to you, Sire. Lady Alora is awake and well." Lisse bowed her head slightly, a smile still on her face. Legolas returned the smile, if somewhat forcefully. "Did you have to call for the doctor's aid?"

"No, Lord, I merely washed her brow and put her to bed."

Legolas sighed and put his hand on Lisse's shoulder. "_Hannon le_, Lisse. Do you think that Alora can accompany us?"

"Ask her yourself, Lord."

Alora appeared at the door, rubbing her eyes. "Hello, Legolas! Hello, dwarves. I drank more ale than I usually do! That was a bad idea. Next time, I'll exercise discretion!"

Gimli felt inclined to say something about drinking unknown liquids, but decided to hold that comment for another time. Besides, he was getting impatient with Alora's coddling. "_Nana_, would you like to come with us for the rest of the tour?"

"Aye, of course! You can fill me in on what I missed at the council."

Legolas smiled. "Dís gave a wonderful speech! I am most sure that the council was moved by it." He looked to Lisse and bowed his head. "Thank you again, _Brannon_. It seems I overreact when it comes to Alora. Would you like to take a respite for the rest of the day? I believe you deserve it."

"Thank you, Sire, I would appreciate that." She quietly left the room.

"Well, family, let us be off! Dís, you absolutely must see our people's homes in the trees. Are you fearful of heights?"

"I live in a mountain, Legolas."

"Aye, very well then. Let's see if your stomach can handle our _telain_ and rope-bridges!

Voronwë hurried toward the meeting place, hoping that his visage would not betray his excitement. He had no desire to speak to anyone of his destination. He was painfully aware of his long, aged stride echoing on the polished oak that served as pathways in Thranduil's halls.

"Just a little farther, old lad. Hurry up!" A late arrival was not an option he relished, for he did not want to miss a single detail. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. Elves and a hobbit or two went about their market business, but no one spared the silver-haired elf a second glance. Relieved, Voronwë resumed his stride.

Finally he spotted the back-alley that would lead him to the "empty" warehouse. He greeted a regular of his tavern before turning onto yet another alley. Storage cellars and warehouses' doors were marked with the signets of the guilds or individuals they belonged to. The Sindar elf's eyes lingered on one of the King's personal stores before stopping in front of a warehouse owned by a minor noble. He looked around before knocking at the door. A young elf in skullcap and mail greeted him. Voronwë recited the Númenórean phrase he had admitted to memory so many years ago.

"The Eldar shall rise again and prosper."

The guard repeated the phrase and smiled from under her helm. Without another word, she opened the door and stepped aside for him. The smell of a roasting fire and the quiet conversations of many elves greeted him as he stepped inside.

"_Suilaid, mellyn nín._ Forgive me my late arrival. I had dwarves to expel from my tavern," he addressed the elf sitting at the head of one of the long tables.

The elf was shorter than most seated about him. He was slight and kind-faced, and wore ancient jewels that spoke of some long-lost age of glory. The name that those in the room knew him as, _Thranduiwendil_, spoke of his devotion to Legolas' father. His reason for calling the council betrayed his generousity and etiquette, however.

"_Mae tollen_," he began in a soft, clear voice. "There is no need to ask forgiveness, Voronwë. We have been merely discussing everyday topics. Now that you have arrived, we can bring the main topic to light. Please, sit, and take a drink.

"Now, you all know why I have called this meet. Although our last Lord never asked me to, I felt it was important to keep watch over his son and his actions. I, and many of you, have done so. He has been… troubling since he returned from his journey. Something he witnessed or did during the War of the Ring changed him."

"Maybe the fact that he was not a king before the War of the Ring constituted to that change?" Morion said matter-of-factly.

"We all have seen Legolas' odd behaviour," Thranduiwendil said, ignoring Morion's taunt. "His brash choice of Queen and his self-appointed heir have been, fortunately, somewhat successful. Both show a sense of maturity, even if they possess many faults."

A murmur of agreement wafted through the crowd.

"However," he continued, raising his voice above the hubbub, "We must address the issues that have arisen. No doubt we have all witnessed the… joy our King and his Queen have for each other. I believe we can all agree that a man and a woman need to be attracted to each other to be happy in their union.

"The affection that those two show towards each other is, however, nothing short of insufferable. It is none of our business what they do in their own chambers, but their actions in formal company are a disgrace."

"Aye! They are constantly kissing and worse during meals! When that fool of a hobbit, Alora, gets drunk, it only degenerates!" A tall, soot-haired elf growled.

"Alora! The very name makes my stomach swim," Ailinel, a baker, said, spitting out the name like a curse.

"Do you all feel this way about our Queen?" Thranduiwendil asked, seeming none too surprised about the other elves' reactions. Most of them nodded.

"I agree with you," he continued. "I wish no harm on the lass, but she is an ill influence on our King. I have been watching them, hoping that she might change, or that their obvious differences would drive the two apart, but it has not happened."

"Her actions have not and will not improve! Just today I saw her be taken to her chambers, unconscious. Most likely from another ale binge," Varno said, shaking his head angrily. It seemed that even those closest to the Queen had little patience for her.

"I disagree with you, Varno, that Alora cannot improve herself. If she is asked, warned, if you will, she will change. She will do so for Legolas and Gimli's sake, if not for her own."

"And if she does not change?"

"Aye!" Turwaith, a former servant of Legolas, agreed. "Her carnal appetite is not something she can control. I have witnessed this, more than any of you have, and more than I ever wished to. She cannot simply stop them."

Thranduiwendil sighed. "Then there will be only one solution to this problem. Morion here tells me Lady Dís of the Lonely Mountain kingdom spoke about strengthening the bonds of elf and dwarf on the land. I know nothing of the dwarves, other than I personally have no ill will towards them."

Thranduiwendil was in the minority in this regard, as many of the elves shook their heads in response. None voiced their objection, however, for their deep respect of Thranduiwendil was greater even than their inherent prejudice.

"I do know that if she refuses, Alora's reign over us must end. Time has told that she will not leave due to marital problems. She must leave or change; that is obvious. She exercises a corrupt influence over our King and his subjects. We will… ask her to change, or exile herself, firstly. But if she refuses both, we must take that as a declaration of war. We must take care of this… little problem quickly and efficiently if our King is to survive. This would only be one step towards what the dwarf wisely suggested."

Morion looked aghast at what Thranduiwendil was suggesting. "Are you still in possession of rational thought? You are suggesting something not possible."

"It would not be so impossible if we had faith in our abilities."

"Nevermind that," Morion replied, waving her hand dismissively. "Do you realize how well she is protected? I will be the first to say that Alora Hayward is a pointless lush, but do not be a fool!"

"Lady, do not worry about protection. We have agents thick in her nets; elves who are close to her on a daily basis. But it might not even come to that. If she accepts our warning, it need not be carried out."

The crowd spoke amongst themselves in hushed tones, unsure of what was so devious about Thranduiwendil's plans.

"My Lord, what does Morion disagree with?" Varno asked, voicing the crowd's thoughts.

"He wants to smite out Alora's life!" Morion accused, keeping her eyes on Thranduiwendil.

"My Lord? Is that really necessary?"

"Of course it is!" retorted Naurwen, an elf-maid with fiery eyes. "We've all seen the kind of indecencies Alora has caused Legolas to commit! If she does not accept our warning, then she must die. For this kingdom's health," she added, shooting Morion a look of contempt. "Why do you oppose this course of action, Morion? Did you not once attempt the same?"

Morion glared back, none too pleased with that reminder of her act of passion. "My attempt was not murder, and I will not discuss it any further with you, Naurwen." She turned her eyes on Thranduiwendil once more. "She need not die. All we need to do is scare her a little."

"You know that would not work. She may be flighty, but she is not a coward," Naurwen said, obviously not quite finished with Morion.

Morion did not peel her eyes away from Thranduiwendil's face. "And why are you so adamant about killing her off, Naurwen? Do you think yourself to be the next Queen of our realm? Legolas would throw himself off a cliff before he weds again."

"Why are we making such a big issue of this?" Voronwë asked, rising. "Perhaps we do not wish to see them… fornicating, but that is no reason to kill Alora."

Thranduiwendil shook his head. "It is not merely about sexual deviance. Unfortunately, she has affected matters of state, as well."

"Aye, remember her encounter with the Wood-men? We almost fought a war over her," a guard named Lithdir said.

"What of all the times our Lord passed Gimli the throne so he could spend time with the wench?"

"Do not put the blame on Lord Gimli," Morion said to Varno.

"I am not, Lady."

Thranduiwendil nodded gravely. "You see, my Lady? Those examples and countless others attest to one grim reality: the lass will be the death of this kingdom."

"We have no need of harming anyone! Thranduiwendil, listen to reason. I do not enjoy her presence, but we do not have to harm her! Perhaps we could… forcibly remove her from Legolas' side."

Naurwen laughed. "For all your knowledge of how Legolas reasons, you are a fool, Morion. If anyone laid a hand on her he would imprison them without question. You know this."

Morion ignored Naurwen and spoke to the other elves. "If you kill her, you will drive Legolas away. You know that as soon as she dies, he will sail to the Undying Lands. He will leave Middle-earth. Is that what you want? We speak of carrying out Thranduil's will. Ask yourselves, friends: do you think it would be his will to depose of his son over something so ridiculous?"

The elves were silent as they weighed Morion's words.

"So be it. We will ask her to change, or leave. If she refuses, we will act accordingly. Whatever Legolas does in response must be taken as an inevitable consequence," Thranduiwendil said gravely.

"Then I cannot be a part of this party. I am sorry." Morion turned and started for the door. "Is there any else who opposes this unnecessary and useless action?" Reluctantly, a handful of elves rose to leave. Most, however, stayed.

Morion looked at Thranduiwendil with a last, pleading look. "There was a time when murder was an option you would have never even considered, Thranduiwendil. What happened?"

"I was an idealist then, my friend. Idealists cannot survive in this realist world."

"But the death of a helpless halfling lass over something so trivial as this?"

"What needs to be done will be done." Morion sighed as she quietly closed the door.

"Lord? What if they prove traitorous?" Varno asked, nervously looking at the other elves, as if they, too, might leave without notice.

Thranduiwendil sighed. "No matter. They know not who our agent is. We will warn our Queen tomorrow. Let us hope that she will heed it."

Sindarin:

Aduial vaer – good evening

Nana – mom

Brannon – Lady

Telain – flets

Suilaid – greetings (everyone)

Mellyn nín – my friends

Thranduiwendil – devoted to Thranduil

Mae tollen – welcome


End file.
